


Dying Names

by small_secret



Series: on the last cycle - a tabula rasa? [1]
Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Child Abandonment, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Genderqueer Character, Link (Legend of Zelda) is a Dork, Links Refuses Bad Endings, Multi, Nonbinary Character, Not Beta Read, Other, Post-Calamity Ganon, Pre-Poly, Selectively Mute Link (Legend of Zelda), Transphobia, Zelda and Ganondorf are Overdramatic Divinities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:35:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27114781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/small_secret/pseuds/small_secret
Summary: A hundred years pass; there isn't a Princess, only stable girls with too much magic in her hands. A hundred years pass; and a Knight without a kingdom wrestles with his fate.A hundred years pass and you are born.
Relationships: Ganondorf/Link (Legend of Zelda), Ganondorf/Link/Zelda (Legend of Zelda), Ganondorf/Zelda (Legend of Zelda), Link/Zelda (Legend of Zelda), Zelda (Legend of Zelda)/Original Female Character(s)
Series: on the last cycle - a tabula rasa? [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1979143
Comments: 5
Kudos: 28





	Dying Names

**Author's Note:**

> This 'verse' is loosely based on some concepts with BotW2 trailer and speculation, eventually. However, it will be largely AU from BotW and AoC if only due to the Zelda, Link, and Ganondorf are not the ones associated with BotW. While I wanted to write more drabbles in this 'verse', because there's a lot between the panels and behind the scenes, the Yiga Trailer made me rush to this. The reason why becomes apparent very soon. 
> 
> While LGBT+ myself, I'm cis. I've tried to educate myself on people being non-binary/genderfluid, I may occasionally slip. As such, I'd love a beta while I continue to educate myself.
> 
> Triggers: Paternal Death/Abandonment, Violent Thoughts, and Transphobia

A hundred years pass; there isn't a Princess, only stable girls with too much magic in her hands. A hundred years pass; and a Knight without a kingdom wrestles with his fate. A hundred years pass and you were born.

You are called a boy. 

Yet, you’re also called a girl. 

Your name is adjusted to landscape, sights, sounds, and smells. 

The name with the harsh constant is associated with blue skies and rising mountains. You can taste the fall on your tongue as the air turns crisp and cold, almost as cutting as your mother's blade and your father's axe. The green of the trees gradually become scarlet, almost as vibrant as your hair as you follow your father into the wooded wild and do your best to bring in crops. 

Your father calls you 'son', calls you 'boy' - and teaches you how to hunt with a blow and blade. As sharp as your father is with an arrow, your father pales to your mother with the blade and you will exceed them both. Now, however, you’re young and too small to hunt, but you carry the wood and the smallest of the game with a great deal of pride. Sometimes you shoot, and your father marvels when your arrow is so often true. 

You dress like him, all blacks and browns, though the tunic and breeches you arrive in must be replaced before the winter comes -- you are always the tallest among the boys your age in Tarry Town, even if you have the longest hair. 

You _like_ this. 

The name that ends in soft and sweet is for impossibly pale skies and rising heat. The heat of spice and pepper is intense as the sun and baking skies. The sand stretches long and golden before fading white and meeting the horizon, mirroring the color of your strange eyes. 

In spring and summer, sweat trickles down your dark skin only to be cooled, the breeze flows through your light clothes that look so much like your mother's.Your mother always calls you 'sweetheart', 'dear one', 'little love' during those late evenings as you train together and the older women in the stalls call you a 'good girl' while you sit with your family's produce to sell. 

You sneak into the jewelry store, dazzled by gems embedded in metal the color of your eyes and you know how to groom your mother's and your hair ... girls your age and younger often come _pleading_ to you to braid it - notably your future sisters. Though you're the shortest among the girls of your rage, you are the best at swordplay, and you know how to make fire and wind dance. 

You **also** like this. 

Your father doesn't know of your soft name back then. No one who lives Tarry Lake does. Your soft name is Aganna. 

Your sisters don’t know of your hard name. No one who lives in Gerudo Town did. Your hard name is Agahnim. 

But neither name quite fit. 

* * *

As a young child, there was only one little girl who knew both your names. _She_ knew your hard name when you were eight and she was five, when you were choosing your first horse while she could easily ride. It makes all the sense in the world, for she lives at the Stables that rest in the shadow of Dueling Peaks, her mother promising soft beds to weary travelers and horses to get them home when she doesn’t travel by her grandfather’s side while her father knew about the shadows and stood guard over Royalty in a village not quite a day away.

You _hate_ her for sitting on horses so easily; but not enough to reject her offers to ride with her.

When she sees you in your silks in the heart of evening in Gerudo Town square, she's only a _little_ older -- a scant few months. Those green eyes of hers puzzled and your mother insisting on your current name as you are introduced, this being reinforce by her grandfather. But then her brow smooths and she beams at you with _such_ understanding. Your names slide on her tongue as if they're both true, rather than both being little while lies. 

You _wish_ you could hate her for that, but really, it's the _**opposite**_. 

She leaves the first flower of the rains for your hair, and you regret you can't wear it. Just a little. 

* * *

You meet a little boy that's younger than you, brand new to Tarry Lake. You've just turned nine, and he's seven and small. However, he's wiry and full of nothing but gumption; you're sized up by his clear blue eyes and he nods at the challenge you present. He's not phased by anything; not your height or weight, not your youthful arrogance and too old acid tongue. What's more, he _might_ be better than you, wooden swords clattering as his father and yours keep their eye on your practice, chortling in amusement. The boy's father is better than yours in fighting, so a rough deal is made while a large house is built on Tarry Lake. 

He never teases about your long hair -- every boy your age or older has only once and the younger learn from the brother’s bruises. Exactly once. However, he goes for it during practice, leading you to wind it up in elaborate braids and knots close to the nape of your skull. In fact he's the only boy in the village that manages to find you while hunting during the season when the season shares your coloring. You tolerate him. By the time you leave Tarry Town with your mother, he gives you a tight hug. 

You do not return it, but regret it just a little. 

* * *

Two names that aren't yours are _too_ many names, but she'll call you whatever you wish. 

She always does, and even though three years should make you seem _**much** _older, you find yourself drawn to her. You’re resentful for this. In Gerudo Town your demands upon her are mercurial when you play, pushing her to the edge of physical limits but you’re fierce in devotion and protect her from crueler older girls. They laugh at you, noting a Gerudo _shouldn’t_ be courting a vai, yet you’re still too young to quite understand. 

Sometimes, though, she’ll lose her temper with you at your casual dismissiveness and she will let you know it; her voice becomes high and angry, she is determined to beat you in lessons of magic and fire, and she hides in places too small just to be alone. You don’t verbally apologize, but fruit is left in these places, and your favorite books too. And then she’ll stay in the square, either sand seals or perusing stalls. 

But never, does she _ever_ call you by the wrong name. She always keeps you safe, "Even if you don't deserve it." She mutters ruefully and clings to you as you both ride on a sand seal sled. 

* * *

He only knows one name, and that's all right. Just because you like a certain name better doesn’t mean it's right. 

But you consider telling him your soft name. You think he might understand. He’s not very ‘manly’ at al - not compared to his father or even your father. He's still your equal in sword practice, though your styles have become as different as night and day. You no longer favor the sword and shield of your mother, your body able to handle claymore; he no longer stiff and still as a town guard but has become liquid and sharp with sword and shield. 

While he shows no interest in jewelry (you keep looking at the Gorson's shop), he loves to cook and attempts to teach you and he’s the most gentle person you know, playing with his baby brother and running errands for nothing more than a smile or pasty. You think the next year you’ll tell him. 

When you return, he's still recovering months after a journey to the Woodlands with his family and your father. He's gone mute, and while he still talks, you're not sure if his hands will slip by mistake -- or if your hands could even be adequate in telling your own tale. Still, he tells you you're one of three people who bother to learn how to listen, rather than just read or throw up their hands to walk away. 

  
  


* * *

Its also in autumn that you meet the elusive third who bothers to learn his hand language, and you’re **not** all shocked it’s _her_ \-- her grandfather is training the not yet Princess, after all. On that day you, she, and he decide to play together and then decide to keep playing for the rest of that autumn. 

Playing being the matter of roaming Akkala and discovering its secrets hidden in trees and grass. She can't cook, but _he_ does. He hates reading, but **she's** excellent. You and he are excellent with swords, and she simply is better with _her_ bow. When you and she are training with her grandfather, **he** simply watches with awe. They both ride horses, and you quietly _seethe_ at their talent. 

It makes you oddly happy to see them having fun, but you’re happiest when you're all three. 

You think that's the best fall of your childhood. But the winter comes and he returns to Hateno, his father thinking it might encourage his son to speak.

That winter, she and her grandfather travel with you and your mother to Gerudo Town when it happens. 

* * *

That winter, before you turn twelve, your mother dies by bandit sword protecting you and her. You refuse to cry though your little sisters do and cling to you desperately. This isn’t uncommon in the years after the calamity. For all the royals claim for their right to rule, no one rebuilds or guards the roads and walls are made higher. Death by bandit so known, but your mother was so strong and brave, the idea of it seems impossible. 

And though _she_ has everyone, even though _she’s_ so much younger than you, you cling to **her**. 

But you refuse to cry. 

* * *

Your aunt takes you in along with your sisters as she always does during the spring and summer, fighting with your father until he finds out your soft name and he is **_furious_**. So, _furious_ that he stops fighting and doesn’t call you home for the summer, not even the fall. And he's not talked to you since, but he writes to your sisters. 

Your first autumn and winter isn’t lonely, your little sisters are thrilled their big sister is home, but your first autumn and winter _aches_. 

Not long after turning thirteen you dream of men and leave white stains on the sheets. Days after that you dream of women and the results are the same. You're thrown into chaos with your emotions, snappish, thoughtless, almost needlessly cruel - you miss your mother, you miss your father, you miss them. You're rude to your aunt. But never your sisters who you cook and help tend to each day like a big sister ought. 

But then your genitals develop, you get taller than _any_ girl your age and two seasons older, your muscles becoming more defined … and then your voice _**cracks** _into something dark and deep. 

Your aunt can't keep you without losing your sisters because Gerudo Town _won't_ allow _voe_. Part of you thinks you’ll go to Tarry Town, Tarry Lake, Hateno Village, perhaps even to Kakariko Village.

You go with your great blood-aunts, instead. 

* * *

Their names are Kindah and Kifaya, and they have _never_ been strangers. They’ve lived in the ruins since your birth, they’ve followed your lessons, and you must admit they’re the best teachers of magic you’ve had. They’re kind if not warm. Their _**ferocity** _mirrors your own, but while your fury is scrambled and scattered, they're furious with the Gerudo Chief, they're furious with your _mother_. They admit they’re angry with your father, but they didn’t expect much better from a Hylian. 

While eating melon and watching dying light with you, between lessons of magic and old tales, they tell you of Gerudo men and their rarity, of what you're _supposed_ to be -- things _no one_ has ever told you before and it makes you feel foolish not to realize some of them. They say you’re becoming a _man_ , and while it might be ten thousand years since such, you _should_ be leading. You are a **king**. 

The only thing that you can comfortably admit to yourself is that you _should_ be learning to lead. 

However, queen sounds _all_ **wrong,** too. 

* * *

You can look into the mirror naked and like what you see, knowing it’s _**yours**_ ; Strong jaw and nose, so common of your people. Yet, your shoulders are wider than any Gerudo vai, your muscles _far_ larger. You're not at full height in these days with your aunts, but you already tower over most Gerudo at the Oasis. You're comfortable with your physical form but don't like being called Agahnim and you've only settled for Aganna but never because it's a girl's name. 

Never.

But Kindah and Kifaya discourage Aganna, for you're a man.

Your magic under your aunt's tutelage becomes _astounding_ , and the palace guard that trains you eventually loses every time while looking at you with a hungry gaze as seasons pass. But you don't know how you want to dress until you're sixteen.

Hylian women clothing isn't even considered, the colors are dull and the material is too heavy -- and by now it’s near impossible to find something that could fit you if you wished for it, anyway. You’ve hated Hylian male clothing since turning thirteen, and again you find yourself glad it’s also near impossible to find clothing your size. Kindah and Kifaya are happy for the rejection of Hylian culture, but have no idea how to clothe you at all. It's a relief when you speak to a tailor; even if you choose colorful rather than black, favoring red through blue and green are always adjacent. You pick jewelry made for you and the cut of your new clothing empathizes with what you’ve hidden for so long, a wide chest, narrow hips, and heavy muscle in sharp contrast to sensuality of clothing and gems. Your aunts don’t care. You don’t look like a woman to them. And you don’t fit masculine or feminine in your head. 

However, you need to wear sensible armor … And that you tolerate while living under their house. 

* * *

At sixteen, you also realize your name and for a year, _it's a secret to everyone._ Not even your aunts who think you should be King. No one would ever want you to be that King. And you're very sure you'd never be that King, regardless if you think you're a man or woman or _**not**_. 

* * *

At seventeen you’re an adult, though you remain there until to finish lessons until eightteen.

You _find_ her at the Merchant Camp in Tanagar and it only takes you a second to know her. She’s grown, and so have you. It only takes her a second for her to know _you_ before she smiles and with no fear she takes your hands and greets you with a soft question of your name.

You tell her it's best to call you Agahnim and you don't have to pretend to be a woman anymore. And in your second breath, you tell your name is Ganon and it _always_ has. You tell her because you _trust_ her. You tell her because she's **always** called you by your name, even if you’re prepared to never speak to you again.

Because her name is _Zelda_ , even if she’s not a princess, her name is **Zelda**. And Zelda simply looks up at you with wide eyes, "You're _multitudes_ , but you’re not that.” 

She's _**wrong**_ , she's absolutely wrong, and you want to choke her; but you want to kiss her while doing so. But, you're older. In fact you tower over her and are simply all wide shoulders and muscles, cocky and deep voiced - you’re silks and gems, kohl and painted nails, and so much more _hidden_ from her gaze. She's still just a girl. So that's what you tell yourself. As if you don't notice that curves have developed, that her eyes are the color of spring waters and her hair the color of white gold. All you're sure that she's still plays with small animals and has a nose in a book -- not that she's beautiful. Not at all. 

"It's my name," You insist, and she slowly nods, because she always has and worry is etched on her face -- one of those moments you entirely forget you want to hate her and never could. "Your concerns are appreciated, but have I ever been foolish enough to let other on that I was pretending to be a girl-” Or maybe even pretending to be a boy. 

"You're you, Ganon." And it takes everything **not** to kiss her. It's not long after that her friend, a Gerudo that you both know, strides over with full intent. And back then, you don’t know why. Only that you’re oddly upset when the Gerudo drags her away. though you say good bye in the morning before you both go. 

* * *

You kiss _him_ , but that's two years later. Under different circumstances. You will _not_ tell him your real name; Zelda barely understands and _you_ barely understand. Muscular and lean, his heart is large as the ocean but he's Hylia's Chosen Hero -- that's what his uncle says. And the daughter of Hylia's Blood is his cousin, Giselda. 

And he is Link. 

So when you return to Tarry Lake, seven feet tall to Link's barely five and half feet, you return for a competition of skill. The weapons are real this time, even if he positively **beams** behind the silence. Link is strong. So strong. It doesn't shock you that he wins in a fair fight. You lose, but only barely. It _feels_ like an old wound, like something you’ve done forever when a competition like this has **only** been once. 

But the fight is fair. You don’t use magic and Link doesn’t use the old Sword that he shows you the evening after, you both sore, bruised and cut, your reunion a warm hand shake after the fight and meal made by Link’s mother at the home the family made for Ciselda. His parents don’t consider it anything but nostalgia and friendship readjusting when you go out together for hunt the next day.

You didn't use magic either to kiss him, nor did you need it when he fumbled into his first orgasm with another with you. He only seems _slightly_ perturbed it was your third, and second with a man. He scowls at this in the afternoon light, under trees and scattered clothes, and his hands speak. He shakes his head with an impish grin and raised brow to tap himself and shake his head. _I didn’t think my first time would be with a man._ Your blood runs cold when he says that, and you _know_ it's not an insult. What he says next doesn't help, but it changes the conversation. ‘I thought it would be with _her_.’

Sweaty and salty, you look at the sky, his head on your chest. He uses her sign but she doesn't need to be named, you **know**. "To be honest, I did too."

He lifts his head, he beams with hope and earnestly begins to speak... then pauses, frowns then signs quickly. _I'll write a letter about this, and you can take it! ... wait! Not right now. I want you to stay a while, first._ And you _do_ , because you’re wanted, later you’re _needed_. Tarry Town has poor guards that bandits know about and Gisdela is wanted by even darker shadows. 

It’s not until months later you carry his letter to _her_. 

* * *

You plan to return to the Oasis, and to speak to the Chief though emissary. Plans are budding in the back of your mind and revenge is aching with memory. But you stop at Zelda's home near the stable of the warring mountains. You're not terribly surprised to find she's gone to study old temples from her mother, who admires you and shakes her silvering head, and remarks, "But _my_ , she's certainly gotten popular with Gerudo friends," There's nothing but amused pleasure in her voice, but the tone turns your blood turns cold, "She's traveling with one right now and you're the second to ask about her this week." 

The letter is kept, the letter is forgotten. Perhaps one could call it a betrayal. You've been taught and practiced what women want -- but pride is graved upon your hand and what is seen as rejection has been _enough_. 

* * *

The Chief will not listen to a _voe_ , so you think. The Chief _**actually** _holds those old legends to heart, the Chief has counted the year from now until your birth. But you know this for a long, long time. 

* * *

A year later, and it's you three once more, like that fall long ago. Not quite -- and not exactly the way you and he wished it would have changed -- there's revenge on your mind and fear on his.. But she’s with you both, her smile is kind, her assurance strong. Link carries that sword you have **no** taste for, Zelda is among shadows with steel and bows, while you have your options of heavy sword or old magic. Sometimes the day ends with you and Link bloody, and Zelda washing and tending your wounds. Sometimes she’s hurt and resting against your torso while Link hushes and whispers in a rusty under used voice, coaxing to take potions from fairies that are elusive to you. 

It's in the open fields and light filled glades that remind of that wonderful autumn. There's laughter from _her_ , stories from you both, and **he** simply listens and smiles. 

And while you seek the _Not Yet Princess_ Griselda, you’re young and needy. You’re no longer children, **none** of you are, but you can make foolish mistakes. 

_You_ think Zelda’s asleep, _LInk_ thinks she's asleep, too, so when you both emerge from the room next to hers the in the morning, she avoids looking at _either_ of you for too long. She hides the hurt well, _almost_ a day.

But when you realize that hurt is _jealousy_ , your blood turns to smoke. 

* * *

She's _not_ walking as close to either him or you, and you _know_ she isn't sleeping by the fire. Of course you bring it up, away from _his_ ears. **She's** being stupid, she's being risky -- she's being everything she _shouldn't_ be. And she doesn't look at you, answering sharply, answering coldly that she remembers _exactly_ what she’s suppose to be doing. But she isn’t sure about you and him. 

Your concern turns bitter smoke into fire hot rage; you lost your mother. You lost _everything_ on that day. Even though you’re supposed to not reach his ears, the boom of your voice might. She’s so cold to your fire, to your strength, to your anger.

You bellow you could lose _her_ , and it strikes you that you never had her at all. You remember them mocking, _‘why should_ you _chase after a Hylian vai?’_ and the fire dies, the embers shockingly cold. 

"Would you have wanted me if I really had been born a woman and not..." Your voice is low, aching as a wound as you gesture to yourself, " _This_?"

"Ganon," She says your name as her expression melts, showing all the pain, "I've _always_ wanted you... Always. But you chose Link. And he chose you... I just didn't want to be alone." She begins to turn but you catch her hands. 

You’re on your knees _only_ because you know you couldn’t pick her up, she'd never let you without permission, and she's drawn into your arms with the barest tug on her hands. Your first kiss with her wasn’t clumsy as you have imagined it for all these years, but you can’t find fault at all. 

You only kiss despite the low burn in your gut, because Link chose her, _too_. 

* * *

  
  


You and **she** return, hand in hand. And _he_ smiles at this, his arm open for her to nestle into. You realize Zelda _will_ urge you to tell Link that you're not quite male. But you know she _won’t_ push you to share your real name. Not yet. This is fine, though. 

Because for a little while, 'you' includes _them_ , and **_you_ **have a would be Princess to save.

It isn’t until later you all found out how terribly wrong _you_ are. 

**Author's Note:**

> When considering a post BotW verse, I didn’t intend that Ganon(dorf) would sit down and tell me they’re genderqueer with terms of he/they this go around of the cycle. Very likely if the Gender Politics of Gerudo town hadn’t been so protectionist it would be flat out ‘them/they’ or all pronouns being all right. The more that I thought about it, the more it made sense. I suspect the more androgynous Rehydrated Ganondorf helped, too. 
> 
> Likely this little one shot is going to be AU as regards to events and how relationships occurred. When I wrote this, I was dead sure that the polyamorous connection would be a V, with Zelda and Link admitting to their romantic and physical attraction to each other in the future. Link, however, made it quite damn clear he wants Zelda. And Zelda was not going to wait until she was an adult in Ganon's eyes to explore her sexuality since she's not a royal this time around. And yes, the violent impulses should be addressed. In this fic, its short hand for the very negative relationship Ganon has had with Link and Zelda in most of their lives. With longer fics and more subtly, these should not occur as often or dropped all together. 
> 
> As for the Gerudo, while they are not intentionally meant as TERFs, their history with Gerudo Males have made them panicky over a Gerudo being born with a penis exactly a hundred years after the Calamity Ganon. It really isn't a TERF thing, but a Evil Being That Wants to Take Over the World and Fucked Our Culture The Last Time thing. However, the TERF like treatment will be portrayed as a negative and confusing, considering hos pretty open Gerudo are to anyone who is Not a Voe. 
> 
> The biggest frustration in writing this practice was not telling how things are mapped out and planned, at least up to Giselda’s kidnapping. I was going to have more ficlets to be released while working on something longer to show more about this verse, but then AoC dropped and with the figure at the Yiga clan trailer being unnamed named as of writing this, I had to get this out. Because I am not fucking around in finding another dead name(s) for Ganon. 
> 
> Regardless, none of the Triforce Trio are in their proper place. Hopefully more explanation in fics to come.


End file.
